Candy and Crime
by Winter Winks 221
Summary: My December Advent Calendar Challenge 2015! Hope you enjoy reading this festive pot- pourri of oneshots.
1. Chapter 1

Prompt: Musical Evening

By: Garonne

Comment: Enjoy!

I felt very weary after my long and arduous errands. Mr Holmes had been at it again with his wretched violin, and so I flew out of the door to purchase ingredients for a cake I planned to make for tea with my sister in four days' time.

Oh my poor feet! They feel so cold, I may as well have forgotten my boots and stockings and I could not have told the difference.

With ice cold feet and a fiery hot tongue on the brink, I enter 221B- only to hear beautiful music coming from the parlour.

A slow climbing of the stairs and a click revealed my tenant, Mr Holmes, sprawled across his armchair with his Stradivarius.

"Ah, good evening Mrs Hudson- I did not hear you come in." He said a little guiltily.

"I do hope you do not intend to play on that violin all evening Mr Holmes." I retort. I am in no mood for polite conversation at the moment- I just want to go back down and have some tea and a hot bath to warm up again.

"Well, on the contrary my dear lady- but I have no intention of turning you out of the flat again. Sit." He commanded, interrupting putting halt to my plans effectively with one word.

I sat down on the other armchair across from him, feeling relieved that I could finally sit down and warm my feet. I was very lucky that Mr Holmes had lit a fire.

But I felt even luckier that Mr Holmes gave me a private concert all evening on his violin of all the songs I enjoy the most.

By eight, I was warmed up and well entertained, so when Mr Holmes requested supper, I was more than happy to prepare it.


	2. Chapter 2

Prompt: A warm welcome

By: KnightFury

Okay- a little bit of poetry here. I hope you all like, as I am unused to writing poetry, but I would so like to do it more. Enjoy!

His shoulders stiffen,

His eyes widen,

Three years of grief and pain

Have taken their toll

I can see now

The pain I caused

I am sorry, my dear friend.

For that is what you are,

Even if it is not so.

But it appears my brain

Has wracked for doubts I vain.

His arms wrap round my shoulders

Hold me tight,

I hear the simple words

That warms my cold, breathing heart.

"Thank God you're alive Holmes. Welcome home."

I need nothing more,

Then bed, then nourishment

And most definitely my fine companion of old.


	3. Chapter 3

Prompt: Why was Holmes banned from the natural history museum?

By: Mrs Pencil.

Holmes! Get back here!"

But my attempts to get my friend under control were in vain-for now, my dear friend was attempting to balance a crocodile skull upon the crown of his head, whilst juggling shark's teeth in one hand and attempting to fight a woolly mammoth with nothing more than- a pine cone.

I had no idea where he got it from, but I was most deucedly embarrassed to be seen associating with the God -and lucidity- forsaken fellow.

"Holmes!" I hissed again. "Come on- you making a fool of yourself!"

"Mother, why is Mr Holmes being so foolish?" a little boy asked.

"Well they say he lives by himself, darling, and that makes people go insane."

Needless to say, I was most annoyed at this- but this soon caused me to question its validity when Holmes began shrieking "Loook attt meeeee Watsoooon!"

"Don't look don't look- don't think of the damage he's causing you and the public of London- and that little boy- oh sweet Lord Holmes, what have you consumed?" I mutter,

Needless to say, when the curator found us, he was most angered by Holmes' behaviour.

"Sir this is a public place where people can learn- not a circus!" He snapped.

"I know- I am sorry for my friend's behaviour-"

"Well! I do wonder why anyone would work at Bedlam! Then again they might be saner than him!"

"I wholly agree with you, my good man."

"Just grab him!" The curator shrieked.

"I will agree with you on that also." With that said, I dart about after my friend for five minutes before he tripped and clumsily grabbed my sleeve, jerking my injured shoulder, causing me to wince and use all my willpower not to hit him.

"And you sir," He said, pointing at Holmes, who just hiccupped, "Are banned from this museum hereafter! Now get out!" The man screamed, pointing to the door.

...

As we exited, I said to him, "Well, Holmes. You have always been a dear but bizarre friend to me- but that display is definitely more of the latter- beyond that, even."

I shudder.

"Next time I want a friendly drink, I'll invite Lestrade."


	4. Chapter 4

Prompt: Nasty weather

By KnightFury

A/N: Man, so sorry for the long wait! School combined with lack of internet has seen me off the face of FanFiction, but I AM BACK! So enjoy the excessive updates!

Silvermouse

I ran down the street, hoping to get nice and dry, or else it shall ruin my sartorial. The rain pelted down on the ground below, creating loud humming which I find very hard to shake off. I feel gloomy and long to be in front of a nice warm fire- preferably home, and maybe have some company- wandering the streets is very lonesome.

I was soaked through- I just wanted some food, a bed, or somewhere comfortable to sleep, and some companionship.

I thought, 'Oh, why was he so bad-tempered with me? I didn't mean for it to happen- any of it. But he doesn't understand how I feel.'

I trot for what feels like the whole of London, hoping for a familiar sight. I only stop for a mince pie, but I couldn't stay for long, so I was soon trotting ever forth, hoping to find home- and my friend.

He may be moody, but he is still capable of affection towards me, so I do it in return- Ah, this street! I am home, my friend.

Yes- the door is opening! I rush past Mrs Hudson, and then wander tentatively inside, with a low whine. My tail began wagging with pathetic hope.

The tall man in the chair emits a chuckle, and gives me a scratch behind the ears.

"Well, Toby, I shall never be so cross with you again." He said to me. "None of it was your fault- I should have been more careful, you know." He said, rubbing at his leg, now in a cast. "You caused quite some fuss with our good landlady and the dear doctor."

Even so, as I watched, he remained smiling even when he settled on the armchair to puff at his pipe- or whatever he calls it.

Very well, he appears to be sorry, and is cross with me for running off.

But that doesn't stop me from being there for him when no else can, because I know he appreciates the company, whether the weather may be good, bad or nasty- like his moods.


	5. Chapter 5

Prompt: Library

By: Wordwielder

I entered the library promptly at ten minutes to seven.

"Your dinner shall be ready in ten minutes sir." I inform.

"Thank you, Thomas." Mycroft Holmes replies. He is looking through an old book, with a beautiful dark blue cover, tattered with age. Its spine was hanging by its last few threads, and it looked as though it would fall to pieces any moment. And yet, despite its fragility, there was a quiet beauty in it as it was in the rest of the room- one that urged that even in near death, there was still loveliness to be witnessed. I knew what Mr Holmes was thinking.

"I am so sorry you lost her, Mr Holmes." I say, somewhat awkwardly- well what can I say? Began working here after her death, and all I know was that she had died of illness.

"Do not be sorry Thomas. What has been has been and gone." He waved a hand. "I know I cannot change the past-and yet, I do miss her."

"She must have been a wonderful woman- she certainly taught you and your brother well." I remark.

"Hm." Was all I received in response.

On the wall hung a portrait of a young woman- she had a graceful posture and quiet dignity, much like that of a swan, and her smile reminded me of a young rose bud. Her eyes sparkled fresh with an unhidden curiosity, and her dark locks curled round her shoulders- much like the younger Holmes' hair. Her aquiline nose did show, but one would have been taken away by her beauty to take much notice.

Underneath the portrait, a plaque read 'Emmeline Katherine Rose Holmes nee Gracefall, wife of Theodore Holmes and mother of Mycroft Oliver Philip Holmes, and Sherlock Cornelius Reginald Holmes'

Mr Holmes then laid down his hat on his desk as he gazed up at her sweet face.

"My mother loved this room the most, Thomas." He told me. "She loved to read, and was very pursuing in intellectual matters."

He sighed.

"I think," he told me, running a hand along the books. "I shall find someone who can repair these books. My brother is coming here this weekend, and from what the good doctor has told me, I shall be expecting a handful- I suspect he is in an energetic mood."

"Oh, may God preserve our graves before we die, and preserve our bones before we wilt." I reply, to which he chuckled.

"I shall proceed with cleaning, Mr Holmes." I add.

"Good man." And he went back to reading.

That Christmas, I received a generous present from Mr Mycroft Holmes- a new book.

Inside it was a note which read;

 _Dear Mr L. Thomas,_

 _I found this whilst sorting them out for repair, and as seeing neither my brother nor I have any interest in this book, you may keep it. It was a favourite of our mother's and although you came here after she passed away, I believe you will find more from her than I shall wish to confess._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Mycroft Holmes._

 _A/N: I'm so nice, aren't I? Giving the Holmes boys these middle names- though I prefer Mycroft's, Sherlock's was too funny to pass up- even though I know about the ones on BBC's Sherlock, I decided to provide my own take._

 _Only Thomas belongs to me- and Emmeline Kathleen Rose Holmes._


	6. Chapter 6

Prompt: Running out of time

By: cjnwriter

I look down over the falls as Holmes and I wrestled. It was a long way down, and I knew that only one of us would survive it, against odds no man can comprehend.

With a snarl, the two of us flew off the Swiss landscape, and I find myself plunging down below.

I see him-his aquiline nose, and his grey eyes, glaring at me as I continue my plunge into my foamy cist.

But before I do, I remember that I had left Moran instructions for what to do should I not come back.

I hope he succeeds in his mission, for I am running out of time, and I know that as it does, I will ensure that Holmes' soul bears the same ruin my pride had.

I feel a loud crack, and a jolt, then my arms fell away, one cutting against the rocks.

I am dead.

….

Holmes could see Moriarty's body on the rocks below. He felt out of breath, and relieved that he was gone.

But as much as he longed to find his dearest and closest friend, he knew he had to move on, and start tracking down Moriarty's men.

He knew his Boswell would lose hope if he didn't return-but if Holmes turned back now, Watson would be finished.

Steeling himself for a farewell that he could never say, he ran away from Reichenbach.

He was running out of time.


	7. Chapter 7

Prompt: A Present for Lestrade

By: W.Y Traveller

...

Lestrade heard the door knocking at two o clock in the morning. He groaned audibly, burying his face in his hands.

"Now who could that be? He wondered. "...Because I feel sorry for that poor devil for waking me!" He added with a low growl.

He slipped on his robe and then went downstairs as quietly as he could to answer it.

It was opened to reveal a soaking wet Sherlock Holmes. He groaned- he should know better, the man had done this before.

"Mr Holmes- what could be going on at this hour?" He asked, wearily.

"This." He replied.

He handed Lestrade a bundle.

"What is it?" he asked warily, looking at the ratty blankets with great caution.

"It's your Christmas present." Holmes shrugged, and disappeared into the night.

Out of the blankets emerged a small King Charles puppy, curious and inquisitive. He could feel his heart melt- he couldn't let it stay outside.

"Well then- I shall call you Arthur," he decided.

The young dog licked his face.

Even when it was found out the next morning that Arthur was a girl, he stubbornly said it suited her very well.

But his wife tried to call their new puppy Penelope, after she found out about the gender mishap, as she was very fond of Greek mythology, and felt that the little dog would be faithful to no one but them.

So now the little dog was called Penelope Arthur Lestrade, and Watson had questioned whether the Lestrades' had named their puppy better than Holmes' parents had named his companion- currently sitting with the puppy sleeping peacefully on his lap.


	8. Chapter 8

Prompt: Ice skating with the Yarders

By: mrspencil

I cursed as I fell over yet again. Who would have thought that ice skating was so deucedly difficult? Watson laughs at me, and I feel my ears go red in embarrassment.

"Are you alright Mr Holmes?" I am asked.

"No," I spat as Inspector Lestrade and Inspector Hopkins helped up to my feet. "This is very difficult to master."

"It shouldn't be for you." Quipped Lestrade cheekily.

"Here, I'll help you Mr Holmes." Hopkins offered.

He took a hold of my hands, and pulled me gently across the lake, coaxing me all the while to put one foot forward at a time. .

"I am not a cat Hopkins, and I am perfectly capable of moving at my own will." I inform curtly.

"I know that, but you do need to stand on two legs, Mr Holmes."

"Why, does life require eight?"

"No Mr Holmes, he just means that you need some confidence." Lestrade replied, saving the lad some face.

"Oi there, Lestrade and Hopkins! Want our annual race across the lake?"

Gregson was grinning foolishly, as was my dear friend Watson.

"I accept the challenge, Gregson. I will beat you this year!" Lestrade vowed

"Nah, I think I'll stay and help Mr Holmes." Hopkins said, much to my surprise.

Once the others were away, I looked at the young inspector.

"Thank you, Hopkins, and I'm sorry if…. if I ruined your fun." I said, cursing myself for my lack of expertise. If I had any sense of professionalism on the ice, maybe he could enjoy himself, rather than being stuck with me.

"That's not a problem. I don't mind helping you- you helped me become one of the better inspectors at the Yard. I'm just repaying the debt."

"True."

I was quite content for him to lead me across the ice for the rest of the afternoon, and that evening, when the inspectors, Watson and I warmed up at 221B, I treated everyone to a concert on my violin- rare for me, but it was for Hopkins.


	9. Chapter 9

Prompt: One of those new Fangled Horseless Drawn Carriages.

By: Domina Temporis.

Lestrade eyed the contraption wearily.

"Are you sure this is safe, Hopkins?" he asked.

"Oh yes!" Beamed the Inspector happily, like a child on Christmas. "Doctor Watson has one."

"I would have thought he would have had more common sense!" Lestrade scoffed.

"Come on sir, its fine."

"Well, if you insist, old chap."

But the roads were exceptionally muddy that morning, and as Hopkins drove along with Lestrade, the car was not infallible to the mud, and the tyres soon gracefully submerged into a mire hole.

"That's not much help- never mind, I'll get us out!" Hopkins climbed out, and began trying to push the automobile out, but nothing happened.

"You'll have to drive this." He said.

"Me?"

"Yes- you're too old to push." Hopkins informed, bluntly.

"Alright!" grumbled the old man.

So he got out and went into the driver's seat.

"Right, I'll push. 3, 2, 1 go!" And Hopkins pushed as hard as he had ever pushed

But Lestrade's foot hit the gas pedal too hard and the car went flying out of the mud, spraying the younger man with mud.

"Ho ho! That was fun!" he chortled. "For a new-fangled horseless carriage, that is!"

Hopkins scowled at his friend.

"Next time, I'll use a hansom."

But Lestrade just laughed.


	10. Chapter 10

Prompt: A day in the life of Mycroft British Government Holmes.

By: Aleine Skyfire

Hope you like.

At half past six, my housekeeper Mrs Tentlebury always wakes me with a pot of steaming hot Darjeeling tea and then I get dressed. Thomas, the family servant, always ensures that breakfast is ready for me for quarter to seven, and at half past seven, I always catch a hansom to my office. I arrive at precisely 4 minutes to eight, so I am always ready to start my paperwork.

I answer letters, send them out and sign official documents concerning Great Britain-including treaties, alliances, .etc. until eleven o' clock, where I am called away to deal with important issues in person, and this motion carries on until one minute to one, where I go out for luncheon. I return at nineteen past one to continue paperwork until three o clock on the dot, where I always check to ensure that my little brother hasn't got into some scrape or other (which is usually the case.)

After dealing with Sherlock for an unreasonable amount of time, i.e. paying bail taking him home and giving him a burning hot scolding, I return to the office, ensure it is particular, and then I go into the Diogenes Club from seven until eleven, where I return home and retire to bed- after some chamomile tea and a bath.


	11. Chapter 11

Prompt: Holmes is dragged to a party

By: Domina Temporis

"Watson?"

"What is it Holmes?"

"Can't we go home?"

"For heaven's sake, Holmes no! We are here to enjoy ourselves!"

" _You_ are- you just wanted to torture me."

"Shush!" I hiss, just as Inspector Lestrade came over to talk to us.

"We're glad you could make it Mr Holmes, Doctor Watson." He beamed.

"We're glad to be here." I reply, trying to keep my temper.

"So Mr Holmes, did you bring your violin?"

My friend winced.

"No..."

"Holmes! I told you to bring it!"

"You did not!"

"Enough! Now we'll have to find another violinist." Lestrade muttered.

"Unless I can go home and get own violin?" Holmes offered sweetly.

"Nice try, but Mrs Hudson wouldn't help you out of that one." I reply.

Never mind. I know someone else who can do it. But let's just enjoy ourselves at the moment. I'll let Gregson know about this.

"Fair enough." I reply.

But when I turn around, I saw that my friend was gone.

My right wrist remained encircled in a bracelet of silver, with another dangling from a chain.

"Holmes!"


	12. Chapter 12

Prompt:

By: Domina Temporis

As soon as I saw my to be tenant, I attempted to shut the door in his face,

"Wait, please, ma'am, I would very much like to see these lodgings- they look more pleasant than my present flat on Montague Street."

I gave in.

"Very well, Mr..."

"Mr Holmes." and he stepped in.

He was tall, and very thin. His aquiline nose was very prominent, and I could see the skin pulled tight over his jaw.

He admired the room.

"This is very promising indeed." He complimented, with a vague hint of uncertainty, as if he never gave out praise before.

"Who told you about my offer to board tenants?" I inquire.

"My brother- your last lodger was arrested and evicted from here earlier this week, I perceive, and it had brought you great relief. Also, you have been stressed about meeting me, and went out to market sometime this afternoon."

I was shocked, and then became angry.

"Mr Holmes, if you have been following me around today, I shall insist that you-"

"Forgive me for giving you that impression, Mrs Hudson. I was simply observing and making my deductions."

"Your deductions, Mr Holmes?" I echo.

"Just observing details- your skirt is covered in mud, and as for the stress, you have worn out the heels of your boots whilst pacing in the kitchen."

I felt a bit giddy when I realised what he had just done.

"Do... do you do that all the time?"

"Only when it suits me," He replied.

He looked at the mantelpiece.

"The violin wouldn't perceive to be a bother to you, would it?"

"I shouldn't see why it should." I reply. I was not willing to admit this readily, but the man was more likeable than my last tenant.

"You can move in this Sunday, Mr Holmes." I tell him.

He gaped at me a moment, and then smiled- he does have a lovely smile. He is very charming as well, in a peculiar fashion.

I think I shall like Sherlock Holmes.

He cannot surely drive my iron welded nerves to the highest hell.


	13. Chapter 13

Prompt: Holmes does the unthinkable- venturing into Mrs Hudson's kitchen

By: Madam'zelleGiry

Peace- at long last, I have found it.

I settle in my armchair and pick up my novel to read comfortably for a few hours preferably.

But the time I had wasn't even worth being called time, for my friend, Sherlock Holmes dashed into the living room and locked the door rapidly.

"Holmes I know I'll regret asking, but what have you done this time?"

"I have committed the crime of the century Watson! My time is up! You must leave me, dear friend- save yourself!"

"Pure nonsense, my dear fellow!" I exclaim. "I shall remain by your side no matter what."

"I admire your courage, Watson. You are a remarkable man."

"Hardly so Holmes- I am merely doing what a true friend would do."

"But a true friend is rare," he reminds me. "I should know."

"Well-" but I could not think of a suitable argument to counter for the sake of my humility.

"See?" Holmes bore the very mask of triumph on his face.

Suddenly, the front door opened, and footsteps treaded the seventeen stairs of 221B.

The sleuth's face turned pale- whiter than the cliffs of Dover- and he slowly edged behind me.

"Seriously Holmes, what have you done?"

Precipitously the door banged open and I saw an irate Mrs Hudson at the door.

"Hello Mrs Hudson." I greet politely

"Never mind common courtesy Doctor- where is he?" Our landlady demanded.

"If you mean Holmes-"

"I most certainly do!"

"He is behind me."

"You...you filthy traitor!" Holmes howled at me.

"Sorry Holmes, you are as much my Prisoner of War as you are my friend." I reply.

"Well then you are no friend of mine!" He declared.

I just began laughing at this ridiculous state of affairs.

"Mr Holmes, would you care to explain the mess you left in my kitchen?"

"I do indeed- happy birthday Mrs Hudson."

It was very rare that Holmes should display such sentiment, but it was always sincere.

"Yes many happy returns, my good lady." I add.

Mrs Hudson beamed happily.

A bit cliché, but it is the birthday of an old friend of mine today, and he'll always hold a place in my heart. Happy birthday my friend -wherever you may be now.


	14. Chapter 14

Prompt: Candlelight

By: Garonne

Only Juliet Hawkfair belongs to me.

I huddle close to the little warmth that I have. It is only four, but it is already dark, and I do wish that I had more light than a sliver of candle wax and the weak shivering flame it is now holding. I have a bad case of the beggar's pride, and not even the good and honourable Doctor Watson can cure me of it. I gaze out onto the streets, longing for my friend Madame Fleur Phillips, a kindly lady who sometimes employs me. She often gives me shelter and food, plus a warm bed to sleep in. Mr Holmes helped her once.

"Miss Hawkfair?" A deep voice asks

I jump. "Mr Holmes?"

"What are you doing out here?"

"I have nowhere else to go, sir." I reply. "Madame Phillip's servants will not welcome me."

"Well, you can come in."

"Oh thank you Mr Holmes!" I cry. I ran in and breathe in the smell of lemon buns and I could also hear a kettle boiling away on the stove.

"Tea will be in a moment, so how about a little concerto to pass the time, Juliet?" This was one of only three times he used my first name with no formalities attached.

"Well, alright, but only if you don't mind doing so Mr Holmes." I reply, sitting by the fire.

"It will be my pleasure."

He played his violin- I think it was Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata or Vivaldi's Four Seasons, but I cared not. All I care about is that on the mantle, a beautiful white candle lies there, and in gold writing, was the name Mary.

I caught my breath.

When Doctor Watson came in half an hour later, he was surprised but touched that the candle I had in my pocket as a spare from the one I used before was now burning in tribute to her.

The flames flickered, one weak and shivering, yet mustering as much oxygen as could be made into light, the other flickering and dancing gracefully.

But both flames held out strong until midnight, where we prayed to Mary, even Mr Holmes, and then we went to bed.


	15. Chapter 15

Prompt: Socks/Stockings

By: Riandra

I shall forget the day when I caught Holmes- well, I suppose I shall tell you the story.

It all started when I returned home from visiting patients and I had a splitting headache, as well as sore feet from walking so far round London.

I had with relief and great pain hobbled up the stairs wielding my black Gladstone and I opened the door to the living room, when I heard a squeak, a thump and a curse.

Deciding that these sounds made for an ominous combination, I opened the door with great dread.

There lay Holmes, by his armchair, wearing two Christmas stockings on his feet!

I felt a bit annoyed, but the absurdity of the whole thing soon had me laughing to a fit.

"It's not funny Watson! This went wrong, and now I can't get up!"

"Stop complaining!" I huff "My feet are quite dead and cold now. Yours just happen to be in stockings for some strange reason."

"Well, I was doing an experiment." He replied sulkily.

"For what purpose exactly, old fellow?" I question, crossing the room so that I am standing over him.

"Whether Christmas stockings preserve heat." He replied smartly, sitting up.

I knew that to be a great big fib, but I said nothing as I help Holmes up off the floor, and still laughing away to myself, I settle down in my armchair again.


	16. Chapter 16

Prompt: Irregulars, an escapee, Christmas cake

By: mrspencil

"After 'im boys!"

Wiggins and the other boys hounded the thief down the street, disregarding those around them

"Charlie- go round that way!" Wiggins barked, pointing to the right

"Gotcha, Wiggy- will do!" So Charlie ran off in that direction, narrowly avoiding a hansom.

The boy ran one way.

"Oscar, Lizzie- run up that way! Edward and I will go round that alley an meet ye up front!"

"Right you are, Wig!"

"Come on!" The leader called. He seized Edward's hand and ran down the alleyway he had said he would.

Meanwhile Elizabeth, the only female Irregular in the group, attacked an ice patch ahead of her ferociously.

"Come on Oscar!" She yelled. "Mr Holmes said our quarry cannot get away!"

"Right!" the youngest Irregular replied.

With a triumphant howl, Charlie bounded out of his direction, crashing into Elizabeth and knocking her down.

"Ow- Charlie get off!" She huffed.

Oscar soon joined in thanks to his inability to ice skate, and landed on them both.

Meanwhile, Edward and Wiggins were keen to hold victory over their prisoner, who was cornered outside Scotland Yard.

"You got yourself in this mess." Wiggins warned. "Now hand over that cake!"

Instead, both of them were knocked to the ground and lay there dazed as their thief got away!

"Ow," whined Edward "That hurt!"

"Never mind that- Mr Holmes will have our heads now if Mrs Hudson doesn't! Toby just stole her best Christmas cake! When New Year comes, I'm ensuring everyone knows how to catch a dog with a craving for Christmas cake!"

Later, although Mrs Hudson was furious that Toby had escaped with her Christmas cake, and vowed another one will not be baked for fear of a repeat, Holmes was in a state of amusement that evening, as was the doctor.

And some of the inspectors at the Yard too.


	17. Chapter 17

Prompt: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe

By: Madam'zelleGiry

"Mr Holmes?"

"Yes, Mrs Hudson?" He asks dully.

"Why is there a lion in the sitting room?"

I buried my face in my hands.

"Holmes, I solemnly swear on what is left of my sanity, if you have been releasing animals from the zoo again, I will confiscate your violin!"

"But I haven't! You know I've been banned!" Holmes wailed.

"Well, why is it here?" Our good landlady demanded.

"My name is Aslan," purred the lion. "I have come here to warn to that the Witch is coming."

"Oh, and is she going to come out of my bedroom closet?" Holmes asked jeeringly.

"You must not jest of such things, Mr Sherlock Holmes." A frosty voice rang out.

Behind us, a woman dressed in white furs and carrying a long white wand emerged from the door leading to our bedrooms. She had one of Holmes' Inverness capes stuck round her ankle, which she shook off before speaking.

"We meet at last, Mr Holmes."

My friend stared at her for a moment, and then he stormed out of the flat, slamming the door.

"You'll have to excuse him," I said. "He's in a bad mood because I accused him of breaking into London Zoo and releasing the lion." I explain.

"I'll make some tea." offered Mrs Hudson.

Neither Aslan nor the woman in white looked impressed.

"How rude of him-to think he hasn't cleaned his wardrobe in so long, he could have greeted us with courtesy. I shall freeze him when he returns." She said, tapping her wand against her leg gently.

I debated whether to warn him about his threat, or lure him back and have some quiet and normality- or as much as I can get, anyhow.


	18. Chapter 18

Prompt: Eggnog

By: Wordwielder

I look down at the kitten we acquired. He looks thin and frightened poor fella.

"What shall we name him?" Lizzie asks me.

"I dunno." I shrug.

"How about, Scrap?" Oscar suggests innocently.

"Nah- I think we can do better."

We suggested all sorts of names -until Edward came up an idea that set the others off laughing.

"How about Eggnog?"

"Eggnog-yeah right!" Charlie jeered, whilst the others laughed too, though not as cruelly.

"You all leave Ed alone!" I retort. "Why do you think we should call him Eggnog?" I ask my friend.

"Well, he's white. Plus Mr Holmes did solve a case centring eggnog poisoning." He explained, going a bit red in the face.

"Fair point." I reply. "Eggnog it is!"

We all cheer- just before Eggnog hisses.

Mr Holmes and Doctor Watson were out walking Toby with the Lestrades, who were walking Penelope Arthur.

"Hello lads! What have you here?" Doctor Watson inquired.

"A kitten!" Oscar replied. "Don't yer like him? He's so sweet!"

"Yeah, he's adorable." cooed Lizzie.

"We named him Eggnog because you solved the case of the eggnog poisonings- I thought of it!" Charlie boasted.

But Mr Holmes knew that the story was otherwise, and when the others were distracted, he gave Edward a half- crown.

"You chose a very fitting name for him." He said, his eyes twinkling slightly.

"Well, I uh, it was nothing really Mr Holmes." Edward replied awkwardly, so I patted his shoulder to calm him.

Eggnog rubbed himself against Lizzie's face as she held him whilst the others filled in the doctor, Toby and the Lestrade family about it.

"Goodness!" Said Mrs Lestrade. "The poor darling!"

"Well, he'll be safe with you lads now." The inspector said.

"Yeah!" I agree. "He's one of the family!"


	19. Chapter 19

Prompt: A foreign language

By: cjnwriter

No translations available. Please excuse another few minutes or seconds of randomness.

"Watson, you look most annoyingly baffled. Whatever is the matter?"

I jump. "Forgive me Holmes- but I cannot read this note!

"What does it say? Just read it as it looks, and I will attempt to translate."

"It says 'Tarathem Ingnos sarahine hulshikine quarleos adgon turqueltia xarlyo Diuqs urle buurly.'"

"That made no sense whatsoever." Holmes said.

"Well, it's what it said!" I protest.

"Hm- I think we have a very interesting case here Watson!" He states, looking more aroused than I had seen in days.

"But we have no information Holmes!" I protest further.

"Watson, my dear fellow, how many times must I say you see but do not observe? There is a crest- or rather, a quarter of one. It looks like a large church bell. What does it represent?

"Peace?"

"Exactly-now come on- to the library Watson! We shall have this case solved yet!"

Sighing, I run after him as he dashes out of the door.

I yell.

"Holmes- come back! You're still in your nightgown!"


	20. Chapter 20

Prompt: Holmes accidentally invents chess boxing

By: cjnwriter

It was with unrivalled relief that I witnessed Holmes finally lift up his queen and made a move on the game before us.

"It is your turn, my dear Watson." He smirked.

I picked up a pawn and deftly captured his queen in two moves.

"You had it coming Holmes." I said, grinning like the Devil's jester.

"You sir, I hereby accuse of cheating!" Holmes huffed.

"Holmes look, I only took advantage of the situation"-

I suddenly heard my nose crack and blood seeped out on the chess board, ruining the pieces and the squares.

"Ow Holmes you scoundrel!" I hiss, wincing at the pain that waved dully from my nose.

The sleuth looked a picture of a fine mixture of horror and remorse for a second before stating "I am very sorry Watson. I did not mean to break your nose." He said. His tone was clipped with formality, but his eyes were softened with worry.

"Never mind old chap." I reply, rummaging for a handkerchief.

"Here."

My friend offered me a clean square of cloth, which I gratefully accepted.

Here, I deserved a retaliation punch. He said.

"Holmes I couldn't"-

"Just do it- but on the arm, thank you. You have used my only clean handkerchief. "

So very reluctantly, I punched his arm.

"Harder Watson- just do it like you would if you were fighting a criminal." He suggested.

I ended up bruising his arm with the second punch.

...

"Well then, shall we return to our game?" I ask.

"Only after we have a little boxing match to decide who's playing fair." Holmes smirked.

"Holmes you sneaky devil- you never liked losing chess."

"I know- Mycroft can testify that a thousand times over." He grinned.


	21. Chapter 21

Prompt- Mycroft's Gift

By: I'm Nova

"How is he Doctor?" I ask him.

"He shall live to witness Christmas for many years to come." He replies, opening the door for me to enter.

"Thank goodness- I am relieved Doctor." I say as I step in and he shuts the door behind me, allowing me to revel in my face to obtain gentle caressing warmth.

Yes well, I should go and check on him." The good doctor says, heading into the kitchen I deduce he must have left his bag in there to replenish his stock.

"Doctor Watson?"

"Yes?"

"May I see my brother?"

He hesitates. I suppose you could. I shall leave you two alone to talk whilst I sort my bag

Thought as much, Doctor-or rather, deduced as much

I wander up to Sherlock's bedroom and slip in softly.

"Sher?"

"My?" A weak raspy hoarse voice asks me.

"How do you fare, little brother?" I ask, though it is clear that he is still gravely sick with typhoid from Roverhithe.

"I am very weak, brother, but Watson has told me I'll survive."

"The Doctor told me so. He is a blessed saint." I remark. "Able to cure the sick, and can put up with unruly little siblings."

"You can take that back right now!" He pouted.

"Tough, I shall not." I simper.

Silence settled over us. Then;

"I am glad that I am out of Roverhithe, Mycroft. I missed you, Watson and Mrs Hudson."

He slipped into unconscious.

I felt for one moment, my heart move in way not associated with beating. My little brother was alive, and I was silently thanking The Lord, His Angels, and Doctor John Watson.

"May you get well soon, brother." I whisper. I slip away to go and alert Doctor Watson of his descent into Morpheus.

I shall admit for one second only in my whole lifetime that the greatest gift my parents gave me was Sherlock Holmes.

And the greatest gift Doctor Watson has given me is his life. Both I and Sherlock am forever in the doctor's debt.


	22. Chapter 22

Prompt: Languages ancient and modern

By: Garonne

I look at the document with confusion.

"Holmes, this is in Elizabethan language- what is going on?"

"I need your help," he told me. "You know Shakespeare, yes?"

"You know him too! You quote him all the time!" I gasp.

"I know- I just need you to get the information in this message."

"Very well, let me see it."

I take the document and I look at it. The message I read ran as thus;

 _Two households, both alike in dignity_

 _In fair Verona where we lay our scene,_

 _Come, let me clutch thee_

 _I have thee not, and yet I see you still_

 _Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean_

 _And on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood_

 _The bell invites me. Hear it not, for it is a knell_

 _That summons thee to heaven or to hell."_

"Why would anyone write out a message consisting of Macbeth's soliloquy and the Romeo and Juliet prologue?" I ask my friend.

"Why not- this person is clearly warning us of murder, Watson- which is why we are going at once!"

"Where to then, Holmes?" I ask.

"I shall explain in the hansom, my dear fellow- get your coat!"


	23. Chapter 23

Prompt: Snowed In

By: I'm Nova

It was truly hopeless- Holmes and I had been snowed in at 221B- why, it was so bad, we couldn't even open the front door!

"Watson!"

"Yes?"

"Come on, man, we need to get of here!" My flatmate exclaims, scrabbling around for something to start digging the snow with.

"There's no point, old chap- the snow will only get in here and ruin the carpet. Then Mrs Hudson shall have our heads." I point out gloomily.

"I suppose you are right. Come; help me sort through these papers."

I frowned- Holmes never sorted out papers before- ever. It was one of his more annoying habits.

"Well, I did protest, but she wasn't having it Watson! She said that none of this scrap will be saved when she comes up here!"

I just nod. That makes sense.

"Of course it does! Now come, Watson. We have much to do."

So the two of us tidied up the living room as best as we could, and it went well until my left foot entangled with something and an enormous pile of notes, newspaper cuttings and letters went flying everywhere.

"WATSON!" Holmes shrieked.

"I'm sorry, but I tripped!" I protest.

"What's going in here, gentlemen?"

We jumped at the same time on hearing this inquiry.

The voice who spoke was laced with ice, but we both knew that that under the ice, there was a fiery temper waiting to be unleashed.

...

Later that evening, Holmes was in a sulk with me about the papers.

"Well, at least we shall have sufficient fuel seeing as we may not get coal or wood for a while." I remark.

"It is tedious being snowed in Watson." He replied lazily.

"Precisely- which is why I am glad Mrs Hudson was able to put our indoor one to good use." I smirk.

But I did feel bad when he told me that the notes for his latest experiment were now burning into ashes. So I gave him an embrace, which made him feel a little better.


	24. Chapter 24

Prompt: Watson tells the Irregulars a story

By: Madam'zelleGiry

"Cut that out Juliet!" Charlie snapped.

"I can't- I don't have scissors!" Juliet retorted.

Charlie glowered at me. "Shut yer mouth, you-"

"Leave Juliet alone -you had it coming!" Lizzie protests.

"Yes, just stop arguing!" Wiggins added, reinforcing his role as leader.

"Are you alright?" I ask with concern.

We're awfully bored." Charlie complains rudely.

"I did tell Homes he wasn't going to leave you to suffer from boredom. How about I tell you a story?" I offer.

That sounded fair, so they all agreed to listen- even Charlie, who was usually very impatient and fidgety. They settled in to listen.

Alright then our story begins in Glasgow a long time ago I announced. It concerns an elderly man with an unusual story from an unusual town, and his name was Rose Porter."

At that Juliet sniggered slightly.

"Is there something funny, Juliet?" I ask her, sternly.

"Oh, sorry Doc. Carry on- I wouldn't laugh again, I swear on it- I just thought Rose would suit a girl better."

"As I was saying, this man was a detective- not unlike Holmes, but this Porter chap was not as astute. However, he was a man capable of solving mysteries as he is of creating them. One night, he was on a stroll by the River Clyde when he saw some strange lights flickering in its surface. They were green and silver."

I watched as my audience perked up further still.

"It was two children dressed in silver dancing by a green bank along with a long necked monster gently swaying its head back and forth to unseen music. At first, he thought mere dreams and retired to bed at a nearby inn.

But the children came back and warned him of great misfortune would befall should he choose to ignore their message. So he snuck out and there was..."

But I could not bring myself to continue, for the Irregulars were all sound asleep.

I shall finish it another time.


	25. Chapter 25

Prompt: Closed for the holidays

By: Riandra

"Cheers Doctor Watson! I say Tell Mr Holmes I hope he recovers soon!"

"I will- thank you, my good man." And the good doctor hurried home after a visit.

"Well, that's that, my girl- you can go home now." I say to a young lassie of fourteen with brown hair longer than Saint Nick's beard.

She nodded her head in thanks and set about tiding up what she had been working on in my beloved museum.

"We'll be closed for a long time, you know. So don't come to work until late January, alright?"

She nods, and looks crestfallen. Now she wouldn't have anything to do from now till then.

"Cheer up lass- I know you don't earn money here, but I have a little something for you."

I hand her a bag of humbugs and chocolate.

"There, share with your family now, wouldn't you? Consider it a little gift from me."

She looks at me, eyes glistening, and then she throws her arms round me and runs off for home, as happy as could be.

As for I, well, she is a lovely quine, though she is a mute. But we get along just fine.

She was ever so disappointed when she first found that she will have to stop for the Christmas holidays, bit I'm sure Frances will be fine.

I smile bitterly as I lock the doors.

"Farewell, old friend," I murmur. "I shall see you."

Now I have to get presents for my children and wife.


	26. Chapter 26

Prompt: Why has Holmes kept one Christmas card for so long?

By: mrspencil

I exhale a breath as I hear the click of the lock's mechanism's springing on each other and barring the curiosity of my Boswell from setting eyes on what I am about to do.

With trembling fingers I opened up the oak drawers of my desk and pull out a card. It was an old Christmas card which I had kept for... For sentimental reasons.

I would never admit it to Watson so openly, but I hold sentiments. Take him for example. He is no finer a Boswell and more loyal a friend I could hope for- one willing to put up with my selfish and petty whims for my friendship- but Watson is not who I am thinking of at this time.

The person I am currently thinking of is a lady in a red dress with long sleeves and long red hair tied in a bun, with a few fiery snakes permanently frozen mid pounce and sparkling teeth. She always carried a silk umbrella and only I could see her. I only ever told Mycroft of her, but he believed me an imaginative fool. Yet, I know she is real.

She always appears when I need her most and I always see during near death experience. Lately, she always encourages me that Watson will save me, and that she will ensure it. Once, she gave me a beautiful Christmas card the first Christmas after my mother's death. Inside were the words

"Death is the snuffing of a candle- you cannot use the same candle, but you still use a new candle to light your way through the darkness, but search for that other candle is, as you never know where it lurks, no matter what steps you take to ensure you do. Be brave Sherlock, for I am always with you..."

One reason why I like Watson so much is that I can see her personality in him- brave, selfless and loyal.

Mycroft may have guards when he is at meetings and suchlike, but I have my guardian angels-Watson, my mother and Marjorie.

To this day, I still keep her card. But neither Watson nor Mrs Hudson knows about the card, for I keep it locked in my desk drawer, where it shall remain.


	27. Chapter 27

Prompt: A watched pot

By: mrspencil

A/N: A little bit of poetry for this one. Just hope this works. Sorry it's short, but the story form seemed even shorter, so there you go.

I scold, I sigh.

"Come on Mr Holmes,"

I feel, I fear.

"You wouldn't achieve much sitting on your pocket holes!"

I wait, I watch

As my tenant in agreement rises

I alarm, I anticipate

As he pours green substance into two blue filled phials.

I wail, I wrath

As the fire brigade comes on the scene.

I moan, I mutter,

As the good doctor asks; "What is going on here?"


	28. Chapter 28

Prompt: Holmes acts as receptionist at Watson's medical practice for the day.

By: mrspencil

A/N: This has a very small amount of swearing.

...

"Holmes?"

"Yes Doctor Watson?"

"Why are you acting as a receptionist?"

"Well, there's a murderer loose Doctor!" He hissed. "Trust me, I know what he looks like-and he has a four o'clock appointment with you today, I believe, so I shall lay out a trap for him."

"An excellent plan- only, you do know you have to work as a receptionist the whole day?"

Silence-then...

"Damn!" Holmes muttered.

...

"Yes how may I help you?" Holmes asked dully. In his disguise, the only person who recognised him was Watson, who had walked with him to the clinic that morning so that Holmes could actually get the gist of how the medical practice operated.

"Yes- I have an appointment with Doctor Anstruther in six minutes fourteen seconds, brother." A familiar voice droned into his thoughts. Holmes groaned inwardly.

"Shh, Mycroft! They'll hear you- and why do have an appointment with him anyway? Why not just ask Watson for his assistance ?"

"Doctor Watson is currently busy with the Prime Minister about a splinter through the thumb. I am here because I have"-

"A sprained wrist? Yes, I am aware, Mycroft- now sit down, please. Unlike you, I am busy." Holmes glared at his brother until Mycroft waddled away to a red padded chair in the corner of the room

...

At half past eleven, Holmes directed a German woman of middle age to see about her pregnancy. And by three fifteen, he helped two women about to go in labour with their babies give birth after being unable to locate an available midwife, saved a man from dying of choking and even managed to help his brother get the door after he was having difficulty opening it with his right hand, more accustomed to using his left, due to both doctors having tight appointment schedules.

But at the last minute, a message arrived stating that the murderer's appointment was cancelled for the following month.

Poor Watson and Mrs Hudson, as well as the neighbours, put up with Holmes swearing like mad and shooting the walls with renewed ferocity all night until half three in the morning . It seemed that he had handled two squalling, blood drenched newborn infants for nothing- and, to top it all, he had had to get the door for his brother like a valet or a butler- oh, the indignity of it all!


	29. Chapter 29

Prompt: A snowy day, sightseeing in Edinburgh...what could go wrong?

By: mrspencil

"Well, I can't say that was the worst place we been Watson." I address my friend as we walk out of the Sheep's Heid.

"Indeed," he agrees. "Edinburgh is a lovely city Holmes- very historical."

I hold the door open for the doctor and we both step out into the snowy scape of Edinburgh.

"So where to next then, my dear Watson?"

"I was thinking the castle. I heard a little bit about how Robert the Bruce captured it in 1314."

"Very well, then." I concede. So we hail a cab, and set off for the castle, exploring the Royal Mile along the way.

When we arrived, I must admit, it was certainly impressive. On recalling vague points of history, I attempt to explain it to my friend rather clumsily.

Suddenly, we note a woman ahead of us. She was tall, of average weight, and had her hands in her pockets. I noticed an odd lump in her pocket, and deduced immediately that she was a thief of some sorts.

Just as I was about to deduce her further, she suddenly darted off and ran away from the group admiring the view.

"Stop thief!" I shout running after her.

I ran out of the gates and chase her across to Prince's Street Garden, where she hails a hansom and I hear her give an address I recognize.

So I immediately grab a horse, ignoring all protests from round me as I ride off behind the hansom.

We rode at many twists and turns, my mind filling me in on location and then dismissing the information just as quickly.

At last I nearly cornered her on the George IV Bridge, where she looked visibly panicked.

"Your time is up." I told her.

Instead, I heard a gun being fired, and then my horse crumpled under me. It was now dead, and my leg was trapped under its corpse.

I looked up to notice another hansom cab run towards me at full speed.

I shut my eyes, preparing for the end...


	30. Chapter 30

Prompt: Write a 100 word prompt involving New Year's (or a similar festivity)

By: W. Y. Traveller

A/N: This prompt is based on an old New Year's Tradition I found on the internet. There is a bit more to it, when the visitor takes ashes away from the house to ring in the New Year and out with the old, but this was all I could do with the prompt. Enjoy!

I watched warily as a tall thin man came towards the open door of 221B.

"How can I help you sir?" I ask.

"These are for the new year my lady." the visitor replied politely.

I looked in the sack and found a piece of coal, a loaf of bread, some crowns in a leather pouch and greenery.

I recognize the tradition from when I was young: coal to keep fires burning; bread for plentiful food; money for prosperity and the greenery-

"For a long life -which I wish you, my lady."

And with that, he disappeared with ringing bells.


	31. Chapter 31

Prompt: "Please listen carefully"

By: Garonne

A/N: So sorry for the feels, but this was begging to be written! That is my 2015 Calendar now complete, and I wish all of you the best for 2016.

Silvermouse- the small, shiny rodent.

I shall not tell you my name. I prefer to remain in the darkness of the Gothic church and simply observe others come in and ask for some spiritual comfort. But please listen carefully my child, for I know of a man who had a story whom I can now regard as one of selflessness, courage and devotion.

It was whilst I was lighting the candles and preparing for Mass one day when I saw a hunched old man, hobbling to a nearby pew.

Although I do not like the contact of others, I for reasons unknown, help the poor man to a seat and ensure he is comfortable.

"Thank you Father." he says and when I gaze at his face I notice his eyes are of steel grey -but they are softened by sadness and memories.

"What troubles you, my son?" I ask

"Forgive me, Father," the old man chokes and when I look at him again, I am shocked to see not an elderly gentleman, but a man who could have been my son if we were related in any way. "I am in sin for lying."

"You are pardoned-" I say but I am interrupted.

"My offence shall never be easily pardoned. I have led a great and dear friend to think I have been dead for the past three years –and yet, I live still."

"And why did you deceive him?"

"Either I had to die, or he would, and his death was most certainly not an option. If the Lord was willing to die for his brothers in bond, I was willing to die for my own."

"Then return to him."

"But how can I? I feel lost and I do not like it." He replied.

"Just tell him the truth. If your friend means that much to you, you must allow yourself courage and hope, as well as veracity."

He rises.

"Very well, I shall. Thank you Father."

"You are welcome, my son. May you and your friend both reunite in concord and amity."

...

Many months later, I saw him again with a man whom I recognize as the man who saved my brother and daughter's lives in a fire after being badly burned. Doctor John Watson.

It was these two men that convinced me that there really were men capable of miracles out in this world.

One man, willing to save others rather than himself, a man who would volunteer to die for others if need be.

Another man, who had done that, and returned from the dead to walk by his side even now.


End file.
